A castle, for you
by OtterAndTerrier
Summary: At first, I hated when Ron beat me at chess. Then I had come to accept it. Later, I liked it. - Short ficlet told from Hermione's PoV.


Wow, I realised I never posted this here! I remember it took me more or less an hour; I wanted to write something about chess and knew there probably were a thousand stories with that prompt. But I'm really pleased how this came out. (BTW, it's posted at LJ, it's from September 2010)

This was dedicated to **lectura35**, because she helped me a lot with my story for the Ron/Hermione Big Bang as my cheerleader. Not only she encouraged me all the time, but also she wrote two amazing, sweet loving love scenes and... well, I can't begin to tell how much I appreciate her dedication and support.

Thanks to **anysomething **for the beta work, too! :D

And I should explain the title... If you have some parts of the HP books branded on fire in your brains, you might remember that, when looking for the Lovegoods' house, Ron says it looks like a rook. Hermione says 'It looks nothing like a bird', and Ron says 'A chess rook. _A castle, for you_.' It's very silly, actually, but taken out of context sounds brilliant, and I love it :D

(And that's five stories starting with "A"... how very original I am)

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**A castle, for you**

At first, I hated when Ron beat me at chess.

Then I had come to accept it.

Later, I liked it.

Coming from me, it sounds almost stupid, but true enough, I played only to see him winning.

It's not that I let him win: I would never go that low. I give my best, and still, he would mercilessly and literally chop my King's head off.

The fine red streaks of his eyebrows approaching, the corner of his mouth turning up, and you knew it was checkmate.

His "game over" lines had changed over the years, as my emotions. The first times he wouldn't look so buoyant: for sure he thought he might just have been lucky and I'd defeat him as soon as I could make with a chess strategy book. The book didn't help.

Thus, he let his triumph be more evident. He would tease me with 'Don't worry, Hermione, you'll get the hang of it... someday.' Or the more pointed 'You don't have to be top mark at everything, you know.' Those made me very angry.

I've always noticed that he enjoyed it most when he played against me (and he consequently won), not as when he won against Harry or anybody else. The bottom lip going pale, pale as he bit it, and then he would release it in enthusiasm and it would be very pink and very wet...

He thought chess was the only thing no one could take from him. That it was his only success. He's always been like that, Ron. He always thought he wasn't worth much, that he couldn't excel at anything—after all, he was just Ron Weasley.

I daresay he has accepted the fact that he was wrong, and that he's finally embracing who he really is. It took some harsh rows, though, in which I yelled and cried and told him things I never thought of revealing. He's paid me well, yes. But it was hard and painful, for both of us.

He would twist his hands before every move and cross one leg over his knee. Or sit cross-legged, sometimes. And he would make a move.

I never told him why I keep playing when both know I don't stand a chance against him. I never got the hang of it, and I don't intend of doing so. Chess is a game of logic and strategy: I've never felt attracted to it in spite of that my whole life has always been ruled by logic and planning. Ron has, and it's helped him a lot in his Auror training. He is one of the best, honesty speaking. I don't think that he ruffles his hair in such a seductive way (seductive for me, I don't think he did it seductively on purpose, before) when he's after dark wizards, nor that the reason he catches them so efficiently is that they fall dead with the scent that the messy flame on his head emanates. It works with me, all right, but I'm not a dark wizard. I'm terribly lost for him.

Ron knows that I enjoy seeing him overpowering me at chess. I don't need to tell him, it's obvious. Otherwise I wouldn't keep humiliating myself. As I said, his "game over" lines changed. And the way he says them, which means even more. 'Don't worry, witch, you checkmated _me_ long ago,' he would let out against my hair, holding me against him. Sweet defeat. It is in those moments when it's unclear to me who has won and who has lost, or if there is ever a loser at all. The conquering King and his Queen: we are checkmated.


End file.
